I’m not sure how a musician would want to be remembered, but this is probably the best tribute you could hope for.
This is a post my pal Jami put up a couple of weeks ago about her daughter Anna Banana, who I think just turned 5.
From the bathroom, where she is about to brush her teeth, I hear Anna singing/saying in her sassiest voice: “Brass monkey, that funky monkey!”
She had quickly started and aborted “No Sleep to Brooklyn,” I can only assume because there aren’t enough monkeys in the song.
He lived long enough to make it into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. But he also made it into a 5-year-old’s life. What more could you ask for a legacy …
I like margarine is the fictional tale of a former runner and his faithful Trail Monkey. Thanks for stopping by. Never a cover charge. Sorry, no parking validation.
I’m debating whether or not to tell her. Perhaps we’ll just hold a Beastie Boys dance party in his honor and keep the bad news to myself.